Murphy's Law.

Well, folks, here I am in Heathrow Airport in the middle of the Murphy's Law of all Murphy's Law journeys. Three hours into the flight from SF to London, a passenger keeled over in the emergency aisle (how appropriate). Poor man had a heart attack, just after eating United's aweful dinner. No accident, as far as I'm concerned.

The flight attendants called for medical personnel, and a woman MD showed up. I offered some assistance with my bag of tricks, but they weren't interested. Pity, as the man could have done with some good essential oils at that moment, I'm sure. A little stimulation of the acupuncture points for the heart... some calming magnesium... he might have jumped up off the floor and exclaimed, I'm healed! But, NO! The pilot decided to divert us to Winnepeg (another hour behind us). So we turned around and flew back to their sleepy little airport. They didn't even have a jetway that would fit our plane... so we waited on the tarmack while the fire engines twirled their lights outside the window and the paramedics waited to board the plane. To make a long story short, three hours later, we took off again for London.

Needless to say, I missed my connection with Cyprus Airways here in jolly old England. The next chapter could have come right out of the movie, "Terminal", with Tom Hanks. First, United directed me downstairs to take the bus to another terminal to plead with Cyprus Airways to put me on another flight. They claimed they had no responsibility to help me out with a connection because I had booked my flights separately.

Just as a group of us were boarding the bus for the other terminal, the same agent came tearing out to pull us off and tell us that they now would help us find seats on another flight (I wasn't the only one given bogus information). That required going back upstairs and THROUGH SECURITY again. After waiting in line for 45 minutes, the ticket agent gave me a seat on a much later flight, but said that I would have to go to the other terminal to get a new ticket from Cyprus Airways. Back and forth again, and again. I had to go through passport control, enter England, get my ticket changed at the departure desk, then go back through security again. My carry-on bag has been irradiated so many times today, I think it's glowing! I'm past caring if the essential oils go through the x-ray machine. At this point, I bless them, and send them on through.

Here I am in the departure terminal, ready to go through passport control one more time to board my flight to Cyprus. I should land around 4AM, make my way through customs, try to find a taxi at that God-forsaken hour, and wend my way to my hotel. Hopefully, they won't have given away my room yet.

My Cyprus Airways Plane

Everyone reading this pitiful saga, take one moment to send me some good vibes for a smooth journey... the remainder of one, anyway.

To (mis)quote Murphy, hopefully, everything that can go wrong already has. Soon, I will be basking in the sun in a deck chair at the Lysithea Beach Apartment Hotel.

(Yawn) G'night.